


you are perfect porcelain

by gerardweyhey



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Almost smut, Broken Mickey, Cuddles, Fluff, M/M, Sad Mickey, also Ian isn't bipolar, insecure! mickey, really fucking cute ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-18
Updated: 2014-11-18
Packaged: 2018-02-26 03:19:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2636093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gerardweyhey/pseuds/gerardweyhey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>set after mickey comes out in 4x11 basically no one takes him seriously anymore now that he's come out and he feels like shit so ian comes to the rescue and kisses him until he feels better</p>
            </blockquote>





	you are perfect porcelain

**Author's Note:**

> hiii so first i'd like to say thanks for clicking after that shitty fucking summary I wrote
> 
> anyways i have a tumblr where you can also read this fic (autumninginreverse.tumblr.com) and follow for updates on my writing and writing tips idk its great imo you should check it out
> 
> anywaaays again i hope you enjoy and please feel free to leave feedback and also i beg you to leave kudos it'd be rad if you did <3

The reflection in the cracked mirror, glaring angrily back into identical cold eyes was a person Mickey Milkovich could hardly recognize anymore. He couldn't look at himself without a draining, sick feeling of failure and worthlessness sitting stubbornly in his stomach. His heart ached at the loss of the man he once was; tough, clever, intimidating. Pale sapphire eyes, that once held a look of bravery now reduced to fearful, hopeless glances at people he would've used to have beaten the shit out of in an alley. His dark hair fell limply over his bruised, lacerated pale face, out of place and messy, as Mickey hadn't had the desire to put himself together for days, lounging around pathetically in a pair of Ian's sweatpants that dragged on the floor. He felt pathetic and useless. His tired eyes scanned the rest of himself, noticing the effort he put into trying to see his whole face in the mirror, reminding himself he was barely 5”6' and incredibly small. The realization made him feel even shittier, and he began to pinch at the small amounts of excess skin on his arms and stomach. Why couldn't he be like Ian; tall, muscular, the kid couldn't manage to put on weight if he tried. He began to wonder why the hell people were ever scared of him. His upbringing and last name were the few reasons people avoided him, that was all. He was a good fighter, sure, but most people he ever threatened had several advantages over him. His lips, chewed raw by his overthinking, began to tremble slightly, as he desperately clasped pieces of himself together to create a mess of a man. He inhaled a shaky breath as his eyes began to water, begging himself not to cry.  
Fear washed over him, heart dropping as he heard the creaky door open hastily. Ian walked in, pressing a quick kiss to the smaller boy's chapped lips. Mickey looked up to Ian, eyes teary and broken hearted.  
“You okay, Mick?” Ian asked gently, placing a hand gingerly on Mickey's bicep. Mickey tugged his arm away protectively, which caused Ian to worry more.  
“Yeah.” his broken sounding voice replied. “Yeah, I'm fine.” The confident voice he once had had become shaken and weak.  
“You're a fucking liar.” Ian retorted, not intending to sound as sharp as he ended up. “Please tell me what's wrong.” he begged in a softened voice.  
“Can.. can we go somewhere else? It's kind of gross in here, and I don't want your family to think we're fuckin' in here.” Mickey asked shyly.  
“No one's gonna think we're fucking, and if we were I don't think it'd come as a surprise to anyone.” Ian paused. “But if you're more comfortable telling me upstairs, then we'll go.”

After kicking an unwilling Carl out, Ian shut and locked the bedroom door and sat down beside a shaking Mickey on the small bed they somehow managed to share each night. Ian's heart shattered at the sight of Mickey beside him. He was so used to a tough, invincible Mickey that he had forgotten the possibility of him crying, although the possibility of it happening was incredibly unlikely. He had his face buried in his hands, refusing to make a sound of any sorts. Ian bit his lip, worried to deal with this the wrong way and upsetting him more. Rarely did Mickey let Ian see him like this, let him help him out. He was the protector, he was the calming one, the supporter. He didn't need help or someone there for him. He had to be there for Ian, not the other way around. Although, he did have to admit that Ian being beside him with a hand placed gingerly on his knee did make him feel a little better.  
“You want to tell me what's wrong now?” Ian inquired softly, moving his hand to Mickey's back, rubbing circles on his spine. Mickey shook his head gently, barely holding it together. He inhaled deeply so he could start talking without crying his eyes out like some bitch.  
“I'm a fucking faggot.” Mickey stated simply.  
“Why's that?” Ian replied, keeping a hand placed on him protectively.   
“People don't take me seriously anymore.” His throat tightened up as he began to unsuccessfully hold back sobs.  
“Because you're gay? Then fuck them and what they think, Mick.” Ian said, pulling Mickey closer and holding him.  
“I'm a fucking joke. People laugh at me, they fucking mock me, Ian. Ever since I came out, people have been threatening me, yelling shit at me. It's embarrassing.” Ian could feel the sharp rising of Mickey's chest as his body continued shaking with sobs.  
“Please don't cry, Mickey, please don't cry.” Ian pleaded, resting his head on Mickey's back, kissing his spine through his shirt. Mickey wiped tears quickly, refusing to pity himself like this. He sat up slowly, looking at Ian sheepishly with bloodshot eyes.  
“You're not a joke, you're Mickey fucking Milkovich, the biggest bad ass in the south side.” Ian smiled, causing a laugh from Mickey.  
“Not anymore.” Mickey sighed softly  
“Says who? Who gives a fuck if you like dudes if you've beaten the absolute shit out of most of the people that live down here. You've never taken shit from anyone, so why would you start now?” Ian said, his voice calm and reassuring to Mickey, who grinned fondly, nodding slightly. His smile faded soon, his eyes still blank as he chewed his lip shyly.  
“There's something else bugging you.” Ian observed. Mickey shook his head, eyes never leaving the floor.   
“What is it? Your dad? Brothers?” Ian asked, voice raised slightly. Mickey kept shaking his head.  
“I..I don't...” Mickey cut himself off. “It's fucking stupid, I don't even know why it's bugging me, it's stupid. It's stupid and it doesn't matter.”  
“Just tell me, please? So I can stop worrying and have my Mickey back?” Ian begged, with an eyeroll from Mickey in return.  
“I just... don't like how I look. Are you happy? Nothing that you need to worry 'bout.” Mickey insisted.  
“Are you serious? You don't like how you look?” Ian asked, shocked with disbelief. He watched as Mickey's eyes returned shamefully to the floor. “Mick, you're perfect.” Ian blurted.  
He looked up to see Ian with a smirk on his face, causing the butterflies in his stomach to go wild.   
“You're perfect, you, you're so perfect..” Ian was at a loss for words. “There's nothing wrong with how you look.” He moved in to kiss Mickey's forehead, a tender, loving kiss. Their faces were lined up, Ian's eyes looking into Mickey's which switched between eyes and lips, eyes and lips, eyes and lips, until finally their lips connected, moving together desperately. Ian's hand held Mickey's jaw, while fingers entangled with ginger hair. Ian moved his hands down, tugging off the thin shirt Mickey had on, as well as working off his own.  
“I'm-I'm not really feeling it tonight.” Mickey interjected, his voice soft and frail as he moved slightly away.  
“Not what I was planning on doing.” Ian replied, eyebrow raised. Mickey was confused, but allowed Ian to tug off his sweatpants and toss them to the side. He began to feel shy, insecurity taking over his mind. Ian laid him down, gently, looking at the boy below him. He saw a completely different person beneath him; he saw everything Mickey was too afraid to show. He saw brokeness, he saw helplessness, he saw a desire to be needed and loved; he saw the real Mickey in his full form, not just the part he picked and chose to display to everyone else.   
“You're beautiful, as gay as that sounds.” Ian giggled, and smiled as he heard the refreshing laugh come from Mickey. Not a forced laugh, trying to mask his hurting and pain, but a genuine laugh for the first time in days. Ian kissed his hair lovingly.  
“I love your hair. Even when it's messy, actually, especially when it's messy.” He kissed his nose. “I love your nose, and how you scrunch it up when you're feeling shy.” He met his lips with his. “I love your lips; I love how they feel when they touch mine, and when they're on my neck, and when they're sucking me off.” Mickey giggled, his cheeks flushing red with embarrassment. “I love your chest,” Ian began, kissing closely above his breastbone, “and how good it always manages to look.” His lips made his way to Mickey's stomach, where several kisses were pressed tenderly. “I especially fucking love your stomach.” Ian continued. “I love it because it's perfectly imperfect and I wouldn't have it any other way.” Ian stopped, glancing upwards at Mickey, who's grin hadn't left his face the entire time. “I'd kiss your dick, but since we aren't doing that today, I guess I'll save the appreciation for another time.” Ian smirked teasingly, which brought out another embarrassed giggle from Mickey. His lips moved south, kissing pale thighs like they were made of porcelain. “And you know how much I love your legs, because there's still some hickey's from a few days ago.” He made sure to leave fresh ones to replace the old, and he pushed himself back up to face Mickey.  
“And most importantly, I love you, everything about you, for better or for worse.” Ian said as his lips were met with an appreciative kiss. Mickey's heart hadn't stopped pounding against his ribcage since Ian said he was beautiful. Ian broke the kiss to lay beside Mickey, pulling his little spoon against him and kissing his neck as he snuggled closer.  
“I love you too, you know.” Mickey replied, his confidence slowly rebuilding as he spoke.  
“I know.” Ian whispered into his hair.   
“Thanks for dealing with me acting like a little bitch.” Mickey said reluctantly. “I'd like it if you sort of kept this between us.”  
“It won't leave this room, ever. I promise.” Ian swore, happy to have his Mickey back and better than ever.


End file.
